


Under Veil of Night

by Anonymous



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina
Genre: F/F, Just porn really, She finds other ways to make her feelings known, Sibling Incest, Zelda is terrible at emotions, and verbal communication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-08 07:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17976692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Zelda wants what she won’t let herself have. At least not outright.





	1. Chapter 1

It started in their room, in Hilda’s bed, on a moonless night. Zelda slipped out of her own bed, sliding on so much silk. She slipped into Hilda’s bed just as easily.

“Zelda? Are you alright?”

Zelda said nothing. She couldn’t bear to, lest she ruin this. She sought permission with a kiss, silent, gentle. She brushed her lips against Hilda’s in the dark. Permission came in a tiny moan of assent, in the soft pressing way that Hilda’s mouth accepted hers. Home. It took almost no time at all for the kisses to spread, mouth and hands everywhere in the dark. She held Hilda so close, so greedily.

 

Zelda touched her with the touches she had only felt from the most ardent and most vulgar of lovers. It’s no surprise to her that with Hilda, she’s both. Hilda’s back to her front, Hilda’s nightdress not removed but urgently bunched up under her arms. Zelda’s hands gripped so possessively at her breast and her cunt. Hilda had writhed in her arms and chanted her name in whispers until she groaned it as she came. Zelda stayed. She held Hilda as she slept, could not make herself let go until morning. Until light broke through and she could be seen again. She covered Hilda’s breasts again, not hers to touch anymore. Made sure to cover her so she was warm and then Zelda slipped away into the bathroom to become herself again.


	2. Chapter 2

The longer Hilda was awake the more sure she became that she’d dreamt it. Or maybe their house was haunted by a sexually frustrated and very talented ghost. A ghost who looked and felt and smelled like Zelda. Surely it was a dream. But then why was there such a mess between her legs. No dream had ever been that good. And she was sore. Sore between the legs, sore on her breasts. She got up and had a look in the mirror. One of her nipples had a red and purple bruise just where she remembered Zelda sucking too hard. Hilda didn’t complain. It was kind of wonderful, the feeling of Zelda being overzealous in her desire. Her desire for Hilda. 

Downstairs everything was normal. Zelda hidden away behind her newspaper. Zelda disapproving of Sabrina’s plans. Zelda even calling on Hilda to sencond her disapproval without any indication of anything changed between them. But as Hilda plated the toast she couldnt stop thinking about Zelda’s lips on the shell of her ear, Zelda’s bruising grip between her legs. How lovely it felt to have Zelda’s name on her lips when she came. 

She waited through all of breakfast, it all went very normally, save Ambrose looking at her like she was behaving oddly. She probably was. She only hoped he wouldn’t ask. Hilda wasn’t a well practiced liar. Her common sense told her she’d had an unusually vivid dream. Her body told her she’d been fucked, and fucked well. She was starting to feel like she’d slid into the twilight zone, wondering if she could manifest physical symptoms of something if she imagined it hard enough, because that seemed more likely than the truth. Then she got her confirmation, just a second-less than a second-when Zelda folded her newspaper, about to get up from the table. Hilda looked up at just the right moment and caught her sister’s eye. The look of lust there was only tempered by the smallest hint of contrition, and only for the briefest moment. It was a matter of minute expression comfortably contained in the span of a second, and it told Hilda everything she needed to know.


	3. Chapter 3

Sabrina was doing homework in her room, Ambrose was being experimental with oil paints in his. Hilda was the only other member of the Spellman family currently not engrossed in a task on the upper floors. She was alone in the office finishing up the day’s paperwork. 

Zelda descended the stairs with an all too familiar hunger. It had been a week since the affair in their bedroom, since Hilda had looked at her so feverishly over breakfast that Zelda had wanted to banish their niece and nephew to the academy and take her there over the breakfast table. Zelda’s confidence came and went in waves like static electricity over her skin. She knew now, that Hilda wanted her. She could just open the door and go in. She could do what she did before and kiss Hilda and everything would be fine. But of course it wouldn’t. The electricity subsided, leaving prickling shame as it went. Again. Hilda would spurn her and rightly so. What she did was unacceptable. What she wanted was unacceptable. Zelda stood outside the office door and debated with herself, but in the end she knew there was no going back. Her body-her heart-couldnt take it if she didn’t try now. She knew the longing she currently felt consumed by would find a way out. Better it be one she controlled.

She opened the door as silently as she could, luckily, it coincided with Hilda opening the loud filing cabinet drawer on the opposite side of the room, facing away from her. Zelda shut the door behind her, just as silently as she had opened it. She snapped her fingers to turn the lights out as she crossed to Hilda. She took her by the waist. She meant to be gentle and slow. She meant to seek permission again. But her hands could not resist Hilda’s hips, she dug her fingers into them. Her mouth could not resist Hilda’s neck, her kisses came as punctuation between sucking and licking at soft skin. Hilda was breathing heavier now and pressing against her. Thank Satan. Oh thank and praise his name. She went for Hilda’s buttons, caressing every inch on the way. She felt Hilda’s fingers carding through her hair and she felt the familiar tide of her sister’s empathetic magic, like a gentle wave against her own aura, trying to read her, trying figure her out. That wasn’t allowed. Zelda bit her. Hilda pulled her hair. Zelda ripped her dress. Hilda gasped and yanked her hair again, this time guiding her to bite again. Zelda obliged.  
Zelda’s hands found her sister’s breasts and gave them an indulgent squeeze. 

Their bodies pressed together and fit like they were made for one another. Zelda waxed emotional over that thought and found herself pulled into a kiss over Hilda’s shoulder almost immediately. A reward for her sentiment. Even if she wasn’t reaching out with it Zelda knew it was hard for Hilda to shut her empathy down completely (or to the level of a normal person). Zelda couldn’t think about it. She would feel too exposed and lose her nerve. Hilda turned in her arms and pulled her close. She really was an astonishing kisser. Another empath talent perhaps. She knew just how Zelda wanted to be touched, her exact right mix of tenderness and force. That she liked tongues and teeth and being turned and shoved against a wall (or in this case a filing cabinet). 

Hilda’s hands stroking the length of Zelda’s body gave her the thrill other lovers had only ever tried to. And Hilda’s teeth on her nipples, through the fabric of her dress, were a revelation. Hilda indulged her even more, pressing the heel of her hand between Zelda’s legs, giving her delicious pressure to grind against. Hilda’s mouth and hands and her little moans of pleasure at the feeling of Zelda’s flesh under her teeth had Zelda panting and cradling her and nearly begging for more. 

Still she was not prepared for Hilda to be the one to drop to her knees. Zelda wanted to protest but her voice failed her. Hilda already had her hem halfway up her thighs. Warm breath and soft kisses above the tops of her stockings had Zelda’s heart racing. Hilda took her hands and guided her in the dark to hold up her own skirt, to keep herself exposed to Hilda. Every way her sister touched her made her stomach flutter and her center tingle with electric heat. Tender kiss after tender kiss made a tortuous path up to Zelda’s cunt. Hilda stopped and rested her parted lips on Zelda’s mound, letting her breath ghost over sensitive flesh. In her more than 200 years Zelda had never felt anything so sweet. 

Zelda suddenly felt very exposed. Far too exposed, even in the dark. Before she had thought about it she shoved Hilda away, knocking her backward onto the rug. Then she panicked. She wanted to apologize, but again, her voice stopped short. She sank to her knees and found Hilda in the dark. She heard the faintest sound of pouting. Her little sister really was far too sensitive. She straddled Hilda’s lap and cupped her face in both hands. She kissed her cheeks all over and then kissed her lips. She was so sorry. So very sorry. Sorry to Hilda and to herself. She was burning with need. She needed Hilda’s mouth. She selfishly tried to project this particular need as much as possible while she kissed Hilda and licked her tongue fervently. 

She heard Hilda breathe out through her nose angrily and felt the cool sensation of her magic pushing back against Zelda’s heated telepathic plea. And she felt fingers slipping under her silk to press inside of her. Hilda didn’t fuck like a virgin. She pressed three fingers into Zelda easily. She knew how to crook, how to twist them, how to press just so and make Zelda feel full. Zelda pressed down on her fingers and had to suppress her moans. The rug was coarse and harsh on her knees, but Hilda’s hand inside her was divinity. She clutched Hilda close as she rode her way to orgasm. Hilda’s mouth kissed and sucked at Zelda’s neck and her free arm was wrapped around Zelda’s waist, half for closeness, half for leverage. Zelda came hard, her body stuttering and shaking in Hilda’s grasp, her moan coming out as a desperate, choked sound. 

They lay back on the rug, silent but for the panting of recovery. Zelda snuggled close, her face resting on Hilda’s chest, arm and leg slung possessively over her. Hilda kissed the top of Zelda’s head so lovingly, and no sooner had she pulled away than the sounds of someone bounding down the stairs and Sabrina’s voice calling “Aunties!” shattered their silence. 

Instinctually, Zelda placed a hand over Hilda’s chest as if to say ‘I’ll go’. Then as she was standing and straightening her clothes and magicking her lipstick back in place she remembered Hilda’s dress would be in tatters. She felt guilty about that. Still in the dark she crossed to the door and only clicked the light on as she opened the door to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

Hilda lay on the floor of the office for a few more seconds. She was, again, in a state of total disbelief that what had just happened, happened. She understood why Zelda needed it to happen in the dark. She more or less understood before, but now... she really got it. Zelda’s mind was usually warded up tight. But tonight Hilda heard her so loudly, felt her emotions so clearly it was like they were her own. And some of them were. They were a perfect mirror of each other in so many ways.   
Zelda’s desire-more than that-her longing, was old. New love had a round, bubbly quality to it. Zelda’s did not. Her love was old and hardened and sharp. A love not nurtured or handled with care. It had been tamped down so many times it had become like stone. It sat heavily in her and she found it hard to carry. It was a love exactly like Hilda’s. 

Sabrina’s voice through the door shook Hilda out of her daze. Then came Zelda’s voice. By the sound of it she guessed Zelda was leading Sabrina into the kitchen. Hikda looked down at her ripped dress and the mess of buttons on the floor. She sighed. She’d have to mend it later. An illusion spell would have to do for now. She found a safety pin and at least closed it halfway up for a sense of decency, cast her spell and hoped she’d be able sneak uostairs and clean herself up before she got pulled into whatever Sabrina had gotten into now. 

A couple of hours and one mercifully small crisis later Hilda was clean and in bed. In her bed, looking at Zelda ostensibly asleep in hers. Zelda’s wards were back up. Hilda couldn’t hear a thing. And tonight the silence was deafening. Now that she knew what was behind those walls that Zelda built she had to persistently remind herself not to reach out, not to touch before Zelda was ready or it could all be ruined. 

It felt very much like being 17 again. She spent the whole of her adolescence painstakingly not touching Zelda. Never letting on about what had seemed to be her laughable unrequited crush. Back then Zelda never seemed to be able to stop telling Hilda how drab and unimpressive she was. How she’d have to lose the roundness of her cheeks and gain a sense of style before anyone could ever find her attractive. And back then Hilda couldn’t read her mind. Now. Oh, now. Now Hilda has heard what was behind every one of those remarks, how each of them was Zelda’s attempt to convince herself of what she was saying. How Zelda longed to touch and hated herself, feeling like she’d become some kind of predator. Funny that trying to go in the opposite direction was what actually made her one. Hilda wanted to scoop her up and kiss her until the world ended. She wanted to tell her that she was so so loved, all of her love, every molecule of it was returned.   
But Zelda wasn’t ready for that. Or perhaps she was... perhaps she could t be the one to seek it out, not without trepidation and shame. Perhaps she needed to be pursued. She’d been pursued all her life, Zelda had never had to chase a lover. Perhaps she didn’t know how. Perhaps Hilda would have to be the one of them to learn.


End file.
